


Please Please Me

by Dandalion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Begging, Crossdressing, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Panties, and stiles is into it, derek is submissive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandalion/pseuds/Dandalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Scott stop by to ask Derek some questions at a very inconvenient time.  When Scott has to leave, Stiles gets to the bottom of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Please Me

**Author's Note:**

> [These](https://xdress.com/product/view/the-perfect-lace-brief-m201) are the panties that Derek is wearing (the lighter blue ones)!!!

Derek has been on edge all day. Stiles and Scott dropped by to ask some questions because they think they’re being haunted or something, and it was clear Derek hadn’t been expecting company. He’s tense and annoyed, and Stiles is increasingly curious, especially when Derek starts shifting strangely. Scott seems oblivious, explaining to Derek the spooky things that have been happening at his house. He listens intently as Derek explains the way spirits sometimes linger, even for people who have died a long time ago (Scott lives near a cemetery), but Stiles is only half paying attention, much more interested in Derek’s stiff posture.

  
When Scott’s phone chimes with a text, they all jump. Stiles raises an eyebrow; Derek is _never_ jumpy.

  
“Shit,” Scott says. “I was supposed to help my mom clear stuff out of the basement. I better go.”

  
Stiles and Derek nod, and as Scott begins to leave, Derek’s expression relaxes, until he realizes Stiles hasn’t moved.

  
“Aren’t you going with him?” Derek asks, his voice betraying a bit of stress rather than its usual flatness.

“Nah, there are still some things I wanna go over with you,” Stiles responds. Scott is already out the door and Derek’s back is stiff again. His face is sort of pinched.

“Dude, what is up with you today?” Stiles inquires, figuring he should just get right down to business so that they can have a normal—or at least normal for them—conversation.

“Nothing,” Derek growls, a little too quickly. “Can you just finish your interrogation and get out of here?”

“Jeez, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Stiles bites back. And then something happens. Derek freezes. It’s only for a moment, barely five seconds, and if Stiles hadn’t already been watching him very carefully, he would’ve missed it. Derek’s slightly panicked eyes meet his briefly, but Stiles doesn’t let him go. He ducks his head to keep eye contact when Derek tries to look away, and Derek’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, no way, dude,” Stiles breathes out. Derek’s face looks conflicted, and he seems trapped by Stiles’ gaze.

“Do you—“ Derek chokes out, before cutting himself off and finally breaking eye contact. Stiles feels like some sacred bond has been broken. “Never mind.” He starts to move toward the kitchen, and it takes Stiles a moment to follow. Derek is downing a tall glass of ice water by the time Stiles reaches him. They watch each other for a moment, and then Stiles takes the plunge.

“Can I…see?”

Derek inhales sharply, setting down his glass.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I’ll just go, I—“ Stiles fumbles and starts to leave, only for Derek’s hand to shoot out and grab his wrist. He pulls Stiles back to him, and slowly places Stiles’ hand on his hip.

“I—“

“I can tell,” Derek interrupts. “That you’re interested. I’ve always been able to tell.”

“Oh,” Stiles croaks, letting his fingers slip under Derek’s shirt to feel his skin.

“You can see,” Derek whispers between them, and Stiles never thought he would experience _Derek Hale_ being vulnerable, but here they are. “If you still want to.”

“Yes, I—“ Stiles just goes for it, maintaining eye contact as he moves his hands to undo Derek’s button and zipper, even though Derek looks like he wants to hide.

“Hey,” Stiles mutters, lifting a hand to tilt Derek’s chin. “It’s okay. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek replies, his gaze finally settling and his body relaxing a bit. Stiles keeps one hand on Derek’s face, just holding it, and uses the other to somewhat awkwardly tug Derek’s pants midway down his thighs.

“Okay,” Stiles steels himself, and it’s worth it to expose his nerves when Derek’s lips tug up minutely. Stiles finally looks down, and can’t help the gasp he lets out or how quickly he goes from half hard to a full blown erection.

“ _God_ ,” Stiles moans, stroking his thumb against the sheer blue fabric that’s pressed to Derek’s skin.

“It’s Derek, actually,” Derek jokes, though he’s trembling slightly. Stiles rolls his eyes and smirks up at him.

“ _Derek_? Shut up,” he orders, and Derek just nods. Today is full of surprises.

Stiles looks back down, dropping his other hand from Derek’s face to stroke over both hips. The panties he’s wearing contrast beautifully against his tan skin, the teal-like blue digging in against his sharp hipbones. There’s a floral pattern that gives off a sly, demure tone, and Stiles wants to touch, to lick, to worship.

“When did this start?” Stiles questions, and Derek lets out a little puff of air.

“Kate…” Derek starts, and Stiles wonders if he’s gone too far, if Derek is going to shut him out, if this is the end of whatever they were about to start here. “She would leave her underwear, sometimes. And one day, I just…tried them on. She never found out about it, which in retrospect, is probably a good thing, but I really liked it. I liked the way they looked, and the way they felt…the way they made _me_ feel. I didn’t really explore it for a while, after…everything. But recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and so I got myself a few pairs. Today was the first time I tried them on, but then you two came over.”

“Shouldn’t Scott have been able to tell? Like, you guys can sense arousal, right? And I’m assuming you were aroused…”

“Unlike some people I know, my reaction to fear isn’t typically arousal,” Derek teases, and Stiles smiles. “When I heard you pull up I panicked, and besides, I’m better at masking things, and Scott’s not quite good enough yet to pick up on subtleties. But it wasn’t easy, having you here, not being able to…explore like I planned.”

“Why do you like it?” Stiles asks. “I mean, I know why _I_ like it…you look amazing.” Derek blushes, and Stiles can’t get over how different he is like this—how much softer he is, how much more open.

“I like the delicacy,” Derek admits, bringing a hand down to stroke the fabric, his fingers brushing against Stiles’ and his breath hitching. “I like how pretty it makes me look.” He says this last part so quietly, Stiles thinks he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t right there.

“So pretty,” he confirms, loving the way Derek’s eyes light up. “I never would’ve pegged you as someone who liked to feel delicate.”

“Exactly,” Derek says, exasperated. “No one gives me the chance, it’s always…hard ass Derek, responsible Derek, tough guy Derek. I just like the tenderness of this, the way it makes it easier to let go.”

Stiles doesn’t have anything to say to that. He just wants the frustrated lines on Derek’s forehead to smooth out. So he moves his fingers from sliding against Derek’s hips and presses them down, against Derek’s erection that’s peeking out the top a bit, straining against the tight fabric. Derek gasps, his eyes closing and his mouth dropping open, and Stiles can’t help but kiss him.

It’s wet, and a little sloppy, but perfect, Derek letting Stiles take complete control, letting his tongue slip into Derek’s mouth, Stiles swallowing his moans as his hands pushes into the panties and pulls out his cock. Stiles starts to move his hand up and down, wrapping the other one around to grab Derek’s ass, the flesh filling out his hand. Derek is clutching at him, a hand in his hair and the other clinging to his back, his body starting to sag.

“I…please, can we—“ Derek groans, unable to finish his sentence, so Stiles slows, bringing his hand to a standstill at the base of his cock, smoothing his other one up and down Derek’s back. “Bed, I need to lie down, please.”

“Okay,” Stiles complies, removing his hands and cherishing Derek’s whine, letting Derek step out of his pants and then pulling at his shirt until Derek is laughing softly and removing it, leaving him only in the panties, pulled back under his balls. He takes Derek’s hand and lets him lead Stiles to his bedroom, where Stiles presses him down into the bed and resumes kissing him.

“Wait, I—it doesn’t feel good,” Derek complains, and Stiles is up and off him before he can say another word. Derek huffs and rolls his eyes, sitting up to tug Stiles back. “No, you idiot, I just mean your jeans, they don’t feel good. Against me. Take them off, please?”

Stiles obliges, not missing the fact that Derek didn’t demand he take them off. He asked, almost begged, and Stiles has never been given this control before, never suspected someone like Derek would want to hand it over.

“What do you want me to do?” Stiles asks, once his pants and boxers are off. He pulls off his shirt too, for good measure, and can’t help but blush at the look Derek gives him. He looks like he could eat him, like he _wants_ to, wants to devour Stiles in one bite. His eyes shine when he meets Stiles’, and Derek forces him bodily back on top of him.

“Please,” he actually begs this time, clasping his hands behind Stiles’ neck and pulling him down to crash their mouths together. It hurts, in the best way, their kisses desperate, yet somehow still kind under it all. Stiles presses them together, loves the way Derek’s panties feel rubbing against his skin, their cocks sliding together roughly. Derek seems to love that, in comparison to the roughness of Stiles’ pants, seems to revel in the way their bodies couldn’t be closer, their skin sticking together and aching with pleasure.

Stiles thrusts down repeatedly, nipping at Derek’s neck and sighing sadly when the marks fade almost instantly. He sets to work on a real hickey, sucking hard and biting down, intent on making it last for at least long enough that he can admire it after they’re done.

“Yes, yes, oh, my god, don’t stop, don’t—“ Derek is panting harshly in Stiles’ ear, his words lost to moans and whines and his head thrown back, neck exposed to Stiles, and Stiles knows what this means, how much of himself Derek is putting forth right now. He feels honored, special, that Derek is letting him get this close, that Derek _likes him back_ , wants him like Stiles has wanted him for too long. Stiles has been suppressing it, figuring it a lost cause, didn’t even know Derek liked men. He never in his wildest dreams thought he’d end up here.

Derek comes like an earthquake, his body erupting and shaking and nearly unseating Stiles. It seems to go on forever, and Stiles has never seen that much come, not even in porn. He thrusts up into it, rubs it all over himself, before adding his own to it when Derek licks up his neck and into his mouth, pressing a dry finger against his hole. He’s still moaning when he comes down, Derek unwilling to release his claim on Stiles’ mouth, their lips sealed firmly over each other’s.

Stiles is nervous, when they finally part, but Derek looks sated—happy. Stiles isn’t sure he’s ever seen him quite like this. His smile is so genuine and open, his eyes never leaving Stiles’ face, even as Stiles moves off of him, reaches over for some tissues and a forgotten glass of water, wets the tissues and cleans them off. Derek takes them out of Stiles’ hands once they’re mostly cleaned up, burrowing himself into Stiles’ side, and Stiles cannot believe he is _cuddling_ with Derek. No one is ever going to believe him.

“No one is ever going to believe me,” he says aloud, because it feels like such a monumental moment that he needs to share it. Derek shakes with laughter, and Stiles looks down at where Derek’s head is pillowed on his chest with a bemused look. “What?”

“I’m sorry, just…are you planning on _telling_ people that we started sleeping together because you found out I like to wear panties?” Derek muses, and Stiles has never been so content to see someone else smile, to see someone so at ease and comfortable in their own skin. He can’t wait to get Derek like this all the time.

“ _No_ , jeez! I meant about the _cuddling_. We won’t have to tell people we’re sleeping together—everyone we know is a werewolf. They’ll take one whiff of this place and—“

“What the fuck!?”

Stiles and Derek look at each other. That was definitely Scott, and he is definitely inside Derek’s loft, and _fuck_ , they totally didn’t lock the door, but it’s not like they knew Scott was coming back.

“See?” Stiles gloats, but Derek doesn’t look amused anymore, just worried. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Are you…” Derek starts, then seems to choose his words. “This is…real, right? I mean, you’re not just in it for the kinky, cross dressing sex?”

“No, Derek, I would never do that,” Stiles insists, taking the moment to be sincere. “If you’ll have me…I’m in this, 100%.” Derek’s face lights up, and Stiles figures his honesty is worth it if it makes Derek look like that.

“Okay. I’ll have you,” Derek teases, and Stiles punches him lightly before pressing a long kiss to his mouth.

“Let’s go face the storm, shall we?” Stiles untangles himself from Derek and offers a hand to help him out of bed. Derek takes it and kisses him again before he peels off his come soaked underwear and heads into his en suite to clean up a bit more, before starting to get dressed as Stiles did the same. This is definitely not how Stiles imagined spending his day, but he couldn’t be happier with the turn of events.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!! Please consider leaving a comment for me to cherish always <3


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